


The Catacombs

by AderynBennett88



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Aromantic, Companions, Ghosts, Horror, Mini-adventure, Post-Canon, Pre-A Dark Stranger Comes, Same Headcannon Universe, Scary, Spooky, claustrophobic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 08:46:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27348364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AderynBennett88/pseuds/AderynBennett88
Summary: After discovering evil in the middle of Castle Town, Link and his friends must work to save the kingdom once again by journeying into a pitch-black labyrinth.Will our Hero make it out in one piece?
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

“So, she says to me, ‘what do you take me for, a donkey?’” Link said, stepping into the fresh, night air, the door to Telma’s Bar swinging shut behind him. Shad, Auru and Ashei chuckled, huddled around him.

“What did you say?” Ashei asked, listing a little to the side as they climbed the stone steps, edging onto the south road of Castle Town, giggling and pushing at each other.

“I said, ‘well-‘ no, listen! I said, ‘well, you have been making an ass of yourself all night!”

The group guffawed heartily as they meandered along the wide road, their laughter echoing off the sleeping shops and homes. Their night had been a boisterous one, sharing many a story and song over several mugs of Telma’s best ale. It had been a couple of years since the Twilight had been vanquished from Hyrule, and in between all his other adventures, Link finally found that he was beginning to relax.

“I say, old boy, I’m surprised she didn’t redden your cheek for that remark!” Shad said, chuckling.

“She tried,” Link admitted, grinning. “Though with a figure as fine as hers, I wouldn’t have minded it.”

“Which cheek are you on about then?” Ashei asked, sniggering. Link favoured her with a roguish wink, sending the group into a fit of giggles once more.

“Mind you don’t let this fame go to your head,” Auru cautioned. “It’s swollen enough as it is!”

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Link replied, sobering a little. “I’m just…” he stopped and shrugged. “Eh. Never mind.”

The group quietened as they headed for the centre of town. Link kept a smile plastered to his face. If only they knew the pain he was trying to forget. Wine and women were a fine enough distraction, but he didn’t particularly want to land himself with a poor reputation. It was hard enough as it was to be thought of as a legend. The opposite would be worse.

He shrugged. It didn’t matter. He was with friends, he had enjoyed a wonderful evening with them, and Hyrule was safe from evil. Even Princess Zelda had not asked him to run an errand for her in several months. And though his heart still ached for his friend, the Twilit Princess, now was the perfect time to relax, to kick off his boots and put his feet up, to let the weight of his memories slide to-

Ashei screamed, pointing. The men jumped and turned. Ahead of them, something was floating in the middle of the road. It seemed to be nothing more than a sheet of tattered, gauzy cloth, almost translucent. Link peered at it, weaving and folding in the air. As if sensing their gaze, the cloth seemed to turn, and Link saw its face.

The misshapen, gaping maw of a mouth. The hollow, black eye sockets. The mangled nose and withered, grey skin. It raised a clawlike hand and shrieked, the sound akin to the paralyzing scream of the redeads.

Link clapped his hands to his ears as Shad yelped and hid behind Auru, who drew his short, thick sword.

“A poe?” he rumbled.

Link shook his head. “No. It’s something else.”

The spirit flew at them with frightening speed, shooting down the street and lashing at them with its claws. Link drew the Master Sword and slashed at it, Auru buffeting Shad back, grabbing Ashei as she fumbled for her own weapon, her fingers ale-sodden and clumsy. The spirt hissed and jerked back, the gauzy shape of it fluttering in the wind. His Sword snagged a part of the cloth and it sheared away, dissolving into nothing.

It came on again, shrieking, the sound piercing, driving daggers into his sensitive ears. Link snarled and lunged, catching the spirit on the edge of his Sword. It gave one, final shriek, and disintegrated, turning to dust that vanished on the air.

Panting, Link stood still, listening, his sword held ready. Auru was involved in a whispered argument with Ashei, and Shad was quivering behind them, clutching a small knife.

“W-what was t-that?” the scholar asked, peering at Link over his spectacles.

“I don’t know,” Link replied, sheathing the Master Sword. “But it was nothing good. Evil should not be here.” He turned to the group. “We need to tell the princess about this. Now.”

“Now?” Auru silenced Ashei with a wave of his broad hand. “It’s the middle of the night!”

“So?” Link turned and began to jog in the direction of the castle, all traces of alcohol drained from his system. “I’m her Chosen Knight. She needs to know.”

Half an hour later, the group found themselves at the top of Zelda’s tower, out of breath and sweating. The door was open, and Impa was glaring at them over the top of her high collar.

“Please, Impa,” Link said. “It’s important that her Highness is informed right away.”

“Her Highness is sleeping,” Impa replied, curtly, her arms folded. “And she should remain so. Her rest is important.”

“So is the safety of Hyrule,” Link argued. “Please. Even if it’s just to tell her what we saw.”

“A poe coming to Castle Town is not the direst event I can think of,” Impa replied.

“It wasn’t a poe,” Auru rumbled. “It was something else.”

The Sheikah’s eyes narrowed.

“Impa,” Link implored. “Think about it. What if this is important, truly important, and Zelda finds out you waited until the morning to tell her? What will she say?”

Impa turned her glare on him, and Link swallowed. He held her gaze, until at last, she nodded.

“Very well.” She retreated, and shut the door with a snap.

“Good thinking there, old boy,” Shad murmured. Link made a face. It was no secret that the Sheikah did not care for him all too highly, and her love for the princess was known throughout Hyrule. It made sense that she would want her to sleep undisturbed, and unbothered by the likes of him.

Five minutes passed before the door opened again.

“Inside,” Impa snapped. “Make it quick.”

The group filed past the Sheikah into a cavernous room, brightly lit, despite the hour. Link was somewhat accustomed to the grandeur about him; the pristine white carpet, the pale pink walls with elegant brocade and ivory borders, the antique furniture. The others, it seemed, had never seen such splendour. Link heard muted gasps, and even a low whistle from Auru.

Princess Zelda herself stood at the other end of the chamber, a long robe covering her nightgown. Her hair had been brushed, and her tiara was atop her golden hair. Her feet were slippered, but her eyes were bright. She smiled as her gaze met his.

“Ser Link,” she said, as the group bowed. “Though the hour is late, I am most pleased at your presence.”

“Thank you, your Highness,” Link said. “Though it is dark tidings I bring you.”

“Formal git,” Ashei muttered. Link aimed a kick at her shins as Zelda turned away and moved to her suite of sofas, indicating the group sit before her.

“Tell me, what has happened?” Zelda asked, crossing her ankles.

Link gave the princess a brief summary of what had occurred in Castle Town, with as much detail as he could. Auru interjected occasionally, offering short, clipped comments.

As they finished, a light frown creased Zelda’s brow.

“This is… most troubling,” she said. “You are certain it was not a poe?”

“Yes, your Highness. It was something else. But I… we, don’t know what.” Link replied.

Zelda gave a stiff nod. “Very well. I shall research what I can to determine the identity of this mysterious spirit. One would hope it is the only instance we encounter. I thank you for bringing this to my attention, Ser.”

“It has been dealt with,” Impa said, standing behind the princess. “Was it truly necessary to disturb her Highness?”

Link gave a tight smile. “Yes. I am alive today because I trust myself to know evil when I sense it. This does not bode well.”

Shad, who had been quiet throughout the meeting, piped up.

“If it please your Highness,” he blushed and ducked his head as Zelda turned to him. “I have a great many books in my shop, a veritable archive of ancient tomes and scrolls. I would happily help search for answers, if… if you think… it would help?” he trailed off, his cheeks glowing.

Zelda offered him a gentle smile. “Thank you, Shad. I would appreciate your assistance in this matter.” She turned to Auru and Ashei. “I would ask the pair of you to patrol the town once you are rested. Seek clues, interview witnesses, find out what you can.”

“Yes, your Highness,” they said.

Zelda waved a hand. “You have my leave.”

Casting their eyes at Link, the trio rose and edged out. As the door clicked shut, Link faced Zelda once more.

“What would you have me do?” he asked.

“Nothing at present,” Zelda said. “Remain by my side, guard me, as is your duty. For now, I would like you to rest yourself, and attend to me in the morning.”

Link rose and bowed, a light irritation creeping across his shoulders. He had to be out there! Out there, where there was danger, an unknown threat to Hyrule! Was he not a Hero? Was it not his duty to save the kingdom?

But he returned to his rooms, the winding journey through the castle taking almost ten minutes. He shrugged off his Sword and shield, unbuckling his weapons pouch and belts. Dumping his clothes on the floor beside his items, he rolled into bed, unwilling to close his eyes. Most nights, his dreams were vivid and cruel, replaying scenes of battles and temples behind his closed lids. But he was restless despite this. Something evil was out there, in the lands of Hyrule. It was his job to stop it!

It took a while for sleep to find him. But find him it did, eventually.

The following morning saw Link seated at the King’s table for breakfast, opposite Zelda and Impa. His Grace, King Rhoam, was nowhere in sight. It seemed he only attended breakfast sparingly of late, preferring more and more to take his meals in his rooms, where he could read his reports undisturbed, writing laws and passing judgement on those foolish enough to break them.

“Ser Link,” Zelda greeted him with a warm and gracious smile. “I trust you have slept well?”

“Yeah,” Link mumbled, before blushing and adding a quick “your Highness.” Zelda chuckled, and then her face grew sombre.

“I have had troubling reports this morning,” she said. “It seems that your encounter with this spirit was not an isolated incident.”

Link glanced up as a plate of steaming bacon and eggs was laid before him. “What happened?”

“There have been no less than five separate reports of such an apparition attacking the people of Castle Town,” Impa declared. “In three of these assaults, the witnesses managed to escape indoors. Their descriptions of the spirit matched yours, Ser.”

Link swallowed. “And the other two?”

Impa met his eyes. “Both were found lying in the street. They are alive, but responsive to neither sound nor stimulus.”

“Further reports have come in from Kakariko and Zora’s Domain,” Zelda continued, her voice low, as Link cursed under his breath. “It seems that similar attacks were made there, though there were, thankfully, no casualties. I have ordered a curfew put in place, in case these beings, whatever they are, return.”

Link gave a sharp nod. “A wise decision, Highness.”

Zelda smiled as Impa snorted. “Yes. I have sent missives to those you were with last night. I shall meet with your scholarly friend to discuss our research in two days’ time, and have requested reports from your warrior companions.”

“What do you need me to do?” Link asked. He perched on the edge of his seat.

“Do as I have bid,” Zelda said. “Your duty is to me. Remain by my side and protect me. I need your strength. Once I have my information, we can determine the best course of action for eliminating this threat to our people.”

She gave Link a gentle smile as he nodded and lowered his head to his plate. His appetite had left him. Evil was abroad in Hyrule, and he had been ordered to remain in the castle and twiddle his thumbs! Irritably, he poked at his bacon with a knife. So be it. He was the princess’s Chosen Knight. She knew best. She held the Triforce of Wisdom, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Three days passed before Link was summoned to Hyrule Castle’s council chambers. Outside the doors, he met Shad, Auru and Ashei, grim faced and tired. Shad clutched a sheaf of parchment to his chest, whilst Auru and Ashei held nothing, but rested their hands on the pommels of their swords. They nodded to one another silently, and the doors to the council chambers opened.

They edged inside, gazing about. Link had been in here many times before, fidgeting and bored out of his mind as Zelda met with her council to discuss matters of state, leaning against the wall as the meetings dragged on and on. Most infuriatingly, he had been commanded to remain silent, not allowed to voice his opinion as the council pondered and dragged their heels over the simplest matters, sniping, undermining, and arguing with each other, it seemed, solely for the sake of arguing.

Now, the princess indicated that he seat himself at the huge, rectangular table, pointing him to the chair closest to her grand, ornamental one at the head. He lowered himself to sit as the others found chairs close by, Auru and Ashei opposite him, and Shad at his elbow. Impa towered behind Zelda’s chair, still and silent.

“Thank you for joining me,” Zelda began, steepling her fingers over the polished, dark oak. “I have compiled both my research and that of the Scholar Shad, to determine just what is haunting my kingdom. We have had many further reports of attacks by these spirits, all occurring after the sun has set.” She turned to Auru and Ashei. “I thank you both in your efforts to procure information for me.”

Link twitched his fingers under the table. His friends had been proactive, out there, looking to solve the problem, and where had he been? Where had the Hero of Twilight been through all this trouble? Stuck in the damned castle, restless and irritable, fidgeting as the princess poured over her research and Impa brooded in the corner. He fought the grimace that threatened his neutral expression.

“Even monsters have been seen fleeing these spirits,” Ima muttered. “They attack settlements each night, leaving their victims comatose. It appears as though their very souls have been stolen.” She made an odd gesture with her left hand.

“Indeed. It would seem,” Zelda said, “that the threat we face is of a most sinister nature. We have discovered,” she indicated Shad. “Word of a set of catacombs buried beneath the Arbiter’s Grounds in the Desert. This, according to our research, is the resting place of the thousands who died for their crimes there. As such, it is a place saturated with evil, filled with the hateful spirits of men with vicious intent. Long ago, the sages placed a great seal in the centre of the catacombs, to prevent such malice from leaking out into my kingdom.” She paused, and looked to each of them, sat around her table. “It would seem that this seal has been broken.”

Link heard Ashei draw a sharp breath. Auru was glowering at the table, and Shad was shuffling his papers, his mouth set in a grim line.

“What do we do?” he asked Zelda. She looked up at him and smiled. Link did not return it. This was not the time for smiles.

“I would request that you go to the Arbiter’s Grounds, Ser, and repair the seal in the catacombs,” she said. “You are my most talented, my most capable asset. If anyone can complete this task, it is you, Ser Link.”

Link nodded, once. _Finally!_ “I will.”

“The scholar Shad and warrior Auru will accompany you,” Zelda continued. “Shad has a knowledge of the catacombs, and Auru has strength.” She glanced at Ashei, who had reddened, her very being exuding wounded pride. “Ashei, I would ask that you continue your patrols of Castle Town, and aid my soldiers in protecting my people.” Ashei gave a sullen nod, only partially mollified.

“We’ll set out today,” Link said, glancing at his companions to determine their assent. They nodded.

“Good.” Zelda reached below the table and brought out a silver handled dagger. The hilt was bound with red string and leather strips, woven through with glass beads and sprigs of dried herbs. “This talisman has been blessed with the wisdom of Nayru and the grace of Hylia,” the princess said, reverently. “Drive the blade into the break in the seal, and this will repair the damage, causing all evil to be brought back to their prison.”

Link took the dagger gently, and stowed it in his pouch. “It will be done.”

In less than an hour, Link, Shad and Auru bade a surly Ashei farewell and set out for Lake Hylia. Mounting Epona, Link wriggled in the saddle, eager to be off, keen to end this new terror to Hyrule. Soon, they were galloping across Hyrule Fields, heading for the lake. Shad bounced about in his saddle, holding the reins awkwardly, whilst Auru hunched over, his barrelled shoulders tucked under his ears. Link sat loosely, rocking with the flow of Epona’s body, grinning as the wind whipped his hair about his head.

It felt incredible to be out of the castle, to be back in the saddle, journeying to another adventure. He did not know what dangers awaited him, but a thrill shivered over his skin all the same. Days of being cooped up behind stone walls was torture enough, let alone the months he had suffered, growing ever more bored and restless. And now, at last, he could do his real job of saving the kingdom.

Nearing the lake, they slowed, dismounting at last and handing their steeds to the helpful Zora girl who worked part time with Iza up the river.

“Now, you’ll have to be very careful,” Shad said, wobbling a little as he tested his legs. “The catacombs are said to be a labyrinth, an unmappable maze designed to keep the spirits from finding their way out.”

“Oh, that worked really well, then,” Link said, as the trio made their way towards Fyer’s hut, their boots clattering on the wooden bridges. Shad tutted.

“It’s not to be made light of, old boy,” he admonished. “The catacombs will swallow you up if you’re not careful. You’ll really need to keep your wits about you if you’re to come out unscathed.”

Link grimaced. “That’s reassuring. Any suggestions?”

Auru grunted and handed him a hammer and chisel.

“Make marks in the stone while you’re down there,” he said. “Follow them back to us once your task is complete.”

“Right. Thanks.”

As they walked, Fyer’s hut and the Sky cannon came into view. Shad let out a funny little noise, gazing at the cannon with adoration in his eyes.

“Every time I see it, I can’t help but long to explore it again,” he said, wistfully. He began to meander towards it until Auru grabbed his shoulder.

“Plenty of time for that another day,” he rumbled.

“Oh,” Shad’s face fell. “Surely I could just look for five minutes…”

Auru shook his head. “You’ve seen it plenty. We’ve a task to complete. One that the fate of the kingdom rests upon.” He eyed the scholar balefully.

“Oh, very well,” Shad said, gazing longingly at the cannon. “But I shall be spending a good few hours here on our return.”

They arrived at Fyer’s hut. Fyer himself was dozing on a bench, jerking awake with a snort as Auru coughed, deliberately.

“Ah, customers! What a delight, what a… Auru? Is that you?” Fyer jumped up and hurried to embrace the older man. “Such a pleasure! Tell me, are you here on business, or is this a social call?”

“It’s business, Fyer,” Auru said. “We need passage to the desert.”

“Ah, of course,” Fyer patted the hut, which Link knew from experience was actually a powerful canon. “Step right up, sirs. Who’ll be the lucky man to take first flight?”

Link glanced at the others as, with a wet chuckle, Fyer lowered the cannon and opened the hatch.

“After you,” Auru said, a smile barely visible behind his beard. Grimacing, Link ducked under the rim and lay flat, placing his feet on the pads provided. The door clanged shut, jolting the cannon. Link swore as he felt it turn and rise, bracing himself, the jaunty jingle Fyer played for each flight echoing strangely in the chamber. The cannon shuddered, and the sky came into view. Link winced, and the cannon fired.

Link yelped as he was catapulted into the air, soaring impossibly high, the wind whipping his hair. He clamped a hand on his hat, squinting against the rush of air. He glanced down, seeing Hyrule flying beneath him as he went higher and higher, soaring in a great arc. The cliffs came into view below him as he levelled out, and for a moment, as was always the way when he travelled like this, he experienced the uncanny feeling of weightlessness, like he was a bird, soaring high on wings of light. For a moment, he felt that if he just flapped his arms, he would continue on, reminded of a time long ago, when he called the sky his home.

But gravity is an unforgiving mistress, and she soon grew bored of his game, taunting her with his attempt at flight. The pull of the earth hooked invisible ropes around him, and he began to fall. Fighting the urge to flail, Link tucked in the air, glaring at the sand as it rose to meet him. Just before he landed, he squeezed his eyes shut, landing on his feet and rolling over his shoulder in a spray of sand as soft as a cloud.

Grumbling, he picked himself up and batted the grains out of his tunic. He turned and looked to the sky, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. There was a distant boom, and from far away, a tiny speck appeared, climbing, climbing.

A thin, high scream came to his ears, and Link fought off a grin as Shad appeared, windmilling his arms and howling, tumbling through the air.

Link stepped neatly to the side as Shad landed with a thump on his backside. He fell back with a grunt and lay in the sand, staring at the sky with wide eyes. He blinked rapidly, and focused on Link, who offered him a hand.

“I certainly don’t envy you, old boy,” he said, allowing Link to pull him to his feet. “Taking that journey before! Never again, I tell you, my feet are most comfortable planted firmly on the ground, I say!”

Link chuckled and helped the scholar brush the sand from his clothes. There was another faint boom, and soon, Auru was soaring through the air to land neatly beside them, kicking up a wave of sand as he slid to an elegant halt, upright and unruffled. Link pouted. The older man didn’t even so much as stumble.

“Shall we?” Auru said. Together, the trio began to traipse through the sand, heading towards the distant towers of the ancient, dilapidated, Arbiter’s Grounds.

It took them several hours of slogging through the sand, avoiding sudden drops and vicious weevers before they arrived at the Arbiter’s Grounds. Link tensed, anticipating trouble, but a quick scout soon told him that monsters no longer called this place their home. Shad pointed through the rubble, and soon, they found the entrance to the catacombs, a nondescript rectangle of stone, rising out of the sand, with nothing but blackness within. It seemed as though it would sink below the sand at any moment, sealing the darkness inside, as well as any hapless individual who happened to be within. Link glared at it.

They set up camp, erecting two sturdy tents and a campfire as the sun began its descent towards the horizon. They leaned against the crumbling stone walls surrounding their little camp as Auru stoked a fire, Link roughly chopping vegetables and dried meat for a stew.

After a quick meal, Link rose, rubbing his back.

“It’s time,” he said. Shad glanced up from his book.

“I’m sorry, old boy?”

“We need to go in,” Link replied. “We need to end this.”

Shad went still, his book balanced on his knees. “Ah. Well… you see, old boy, the thing is…”

“You’re going alone,” Auru said, gruffly.

Link stared at them. “You’re… not coming with me?”

Shad let loose a nervous little laugh. “Oh, no, old boy. Don’t be silly! I’d be worse than useless, I’m afraid, I’d only slow you down. Much better that I wait atop for you.”

“But…” Link stared. “You know the catacombs!”

“I know _of_ them,” Shad said, staring at his feet. “I don’t have a map of them in my head, I’m afraid.”

“What about in your bag?” Link asked, peering hopefully at the bulky satchel next to the scholar. Shad glanced at him and away again, shaking his head and drawing his knees to his chest.

“Auru?” Link said, turning to the old warrior.

“I would come,” Auru said. “But the camp and our scholar here will need looking after. Also, if any of those foul things come out, I'd take great pleasure in killing them before they attack Hyrule again.”

Link glowered at the pair as ice needled along his spine. He would be alone. “Fine.”

“Besides,” Shad said. “It’s getting near evening. You’ll need your rest. Go tomorrow, when the sun’s up.”

Link stared at them both as though they were mad. “The night will see the spirits loose in the kingdom,” he said, slowly. Shad balked, holding his book close to his chest. Link gestured at the gaping doorway. “I can’t wait another day. Who knows how many people will be hurt by these spirits if we don’t fix this now?”

“None, if they obey the curfew,” Auru muttered.

“That’s as may be,” Link replied. “But it’s not possible. Guards still patrol. People need to travel. Some are just stupid and ignore good advice.” Auru snorted, but Link forged on. “Stupidity is not a crime punishable by death, irritating as it may be,” he said. “I need to end this. Now.”

Shad sighed and marked his page with his dagger, climbing stiffly to his feet. “You’re sure?”

Link nodded. “I’m sure.”

Shad glanced at his feet, then darted forwards and pulled the Hero into a quick embrace. “Take care in there. Stay safe.”

Link chuckled as the scholar let him go, his cheeks a flaming red. “I’ll try.”

Auru gave him a formal nod and rose to shake his hand. “I will come in and get you, if you take too long.”

“Don’t,” Link said. “Stay in your tents, you’ll be safe in there. I’ll see you soon.”

He turned and faced the black pit that was the entrance to the catacombs. He took a breath, and checked himself. He had the Master Sword, he had his shield. In his pouch were his other weapons, the talisman Zelda had given him, four torches, and his lantern. He took another breath. Each torch lasted two hours. He surely would not need to use them all. His lantern, though the brightest, would last him five.

If he could not find the central chamber before his light ran out, he would simply have to retreat and try again with more supplies. He could not risk becoming lost in the darkness. For if it was a maze, a labyrinth, he would become lost long before Shad or Auru ever realised he was in trouble.

Link closed his eyes, and took one final breath of fresh, clear air. He lowered his first torch to the campfire, and approached the darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

The light from outside was silenced almost instantly as Link ducked through the arch. He raised his torch before him and crept forwards, his footsteps softened by a layer of sand upon the old stone. The passage was wide enough for him to spread his arms, but the ceiling was low, almost brushing the top of his head if he stood upright.

The air was stale and dank, the only sound the flaring crackle of the torch and his footsteps, which fell dead in the air, not even an echo to break the unrelenting quiet. It seemed as though all the sound was being pulled back into the catacombs, back into blackness, where nothing and everything waited. Link squared his shoulders. Outside, the sun would be arcing towards the horizon. The moment it set, the spirits would be unleashed. He had a couple of hours, if he was lucky, to make it to the centre before they woke.

He crept on, testing each step before lowering his weight onto his foot, holding the torch in his right hand, his left empty, ready to swing up and unleash the Master Sword. He glanced over his shoulder, the exit a mere rectangle of light. It seemed as though the floor was sloping down, and soon, he could no longer see the light of day.

The torch only gave him a few feet of light, fading at the edges and flickering. There was nothing beyond. Link cursed and leapt back, his hand going to his Sword as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. It was only his shadow, distorted by the flames. He shook off a shiver and crept on.

He came to an intersection, three paths branching off in a fork. Holding the torch under one arm, Link dug for his hammer and chisel, chipping an arrow into the old stone, pointing to the exit. He winced at the sound, as loud as cannon fire in the stillness. It still did not echo. He moved ahead, choosing the left path out of habit. Still the floor seemed to slope, creeping into the bowels of the earth at a barely noticeable decline.

From the darkness, a thin sound came, just at the edges of his hearing. Link stopped, and raised his hand to the Sword once more. The sound grew, becoming a high, piercing shriek. A spirit flew around a corner, its shapeless mouth open, its claws extended, the gauze that cloaked it streaming as it rushed towards him. Link bared his teeth and yanked his Sword, the hilt clattering against the low, stone roof.

“Shit!” he swore as the spirit bore down on him, raking at his tunic. He lashed out with the torch and it hissed, spitting as the flames licked the gauzy cloth. Link ducked and unleashed the Master Sword. He growled. It was too narrow to swing. He jabbed for the spirit as it retreated, snarling, and cornered it against the wall, slicing through it as though it were butter. It disintegrated, fading into nothing.

The silence resumed.

Panting, Link sheathed his Sword. As much as he wanted it in his hand, it would be too much to juggle it, the torch, and his chisel. He had to conserve his energy. He marked his place, and crept further into the catacombs, his breath loud in his ears, his heart still racing.

At each junction he came to he stopped, peering around the corners for ambush, holding the torch as high as he could. He marked his place with an arrow, pointing back, showing him the way home. It wasn’t long before another spirit appeared, but this time, Link was ready. His Sword was already out, slashing at the spirit, sending the two halves curling away. He gave a firm nod as he sheathed his sword once again.

He moved on a little further when his stomach growled. He made a face and dug in his pouch, bringing out a side of flat bread stuffed with cured, spiced meat. He slid down the wall and chewed, listening hard for anything other than the sounds he made. There was nothing.

Sated, Link rose, dusting off the seat of his tunic. He glanced around and set off again. It wasn’t so bad, really. Yes, it was dark. Terrifyingly so. But he had experienced darkness before. Nothing so bad as this, but… he shook himself. It was fine. It was going to be fine. The tunnel was a little too narrow, the ceiling a little too low, but it wasn’t like he was trapped. And yes, it was quiet. So quiet he could swear he could hear his own blood rushing through his body. He threw off another shudder, and froze.

From far behind him, something clattered. Link flattened himself against the wall as a trickle of dust sounded, the tiny sound skittering in the blackness. He swallowed and peered into the gloom. The back of his hand tingled, his triforce giving a tiny, brief glow.

He was not alone.

 _I am not afraid,_ Link told himself, as he began to shiver. _I am the Hero of Twilight, housing the Spirit of the Hero. I have faced worse dangers than this. I have saved Hyrule half a hundred times. I am not afraid, I am not, I’m not, I…_

Something slid over the stone, a shapeless mass in the darkness beyond his torch.

Link sprung away from the wall and fled down a passage, keeping low, taking a left, then a right, then another left, skidding around the corner and dropping to a crouch, holding his breath as the dark presence faded. He let loose a sigh, and made to move on. But he froze.

He had not marked the walls.

He straightened up and banged his head on the ceiling. He swore and clutched his head, the torch clattering to the stone, flickering, dimming.

“Oh, Hylia, no, no, no!” he scrambled for it, scooping it up and cradling it, willing the dimming flame to grow brighter. It stayed resolutely dull, and seemed to dim further as he watched. With trembling hands, he drew out another, lighting it from the first. He drew a shaky breath. He could not have been down here for two hours already, surely?

Uneasy, he glanced over his shoulder again. He reached for his chisel and chipped an overlarge arrow in the stone.

“I went left, then right, then left again,” he muttered. “I just have to go the other way when I get back here. That’s all. It’s fine. It’s all fine.”

He used the charred end of his dead torch to mark an R, L, R on the wall, and laid it on the ground, the blackened head pointing the way he had come. Steeling himself, he moved on, hunching. He had to go faster.

He wound through the labyrinth, his feet scuffing the dusty, sandy stone, turned orange by the torchlight. The walls seemed narrower, now, the ceiling lower. He could not stand comfortably. He told himself that his breathing was shallow because he was rushing, but he knew he was lying to himself. He stopped at every turn and marked the wall, each chip becoming faster, harsher, barely resembling arrows any more.

He wanted nothing more than to turn around and run back the way he came, to sprint across the desert, all the way back home. Not to the castle, where grandeur and snobbery suffocated him, but home, to Ordon, where he could dive under his bed and huddle against the wall, clutching his pillow, waiting for the night to pass, as he once had when he was a child, all alone, with nothing but the sounds of darkness to accompany him.

And then he heard it again.

Link stopped in his tracks, one foot raised, the back of his head brushing against the ceiling. He turned as something huge slithered in the blackness behind him, and a wave of evil blew up the passage.

With a yelp, he leapt forward, his torch in one hand, the chisel in the other, lashing out blindly at the wall. Something rumbled behind him, coming closer. He was making too much noise, too much sound, drawing it to where he was. With a cry, he stowed his chisel and forged on, keeping low, his breath hissing between his teeth.

_Left, right, left, left, straight on, right, left, straight, left, leftrightleftrightstraight oh Hylia above!_

No matter which way he turned, it seemed as though the thing was always with him, its presence at his back, then inexplicably ahead of him, sending him screeching to a halt and darting down the nearest path, or welling up to the side of him as he cannoned into a crossroads. He could not see it. He could see nothing beyond the little flame at the end of a flimsy stick that flickered with the speed of his flight.

Link skidded to a stop as his torch began to dim. He stared at it in dismay as he strained his ears for sound. There was nothing but his own, harsh breathing, the pounding of his heart. The dark presence seemed to have vanished, leaving him alone once more.

He shivered, drawing in the stale air, cupping the torch close to his face, praying.

“Please, _please_ don’t go out,” he whispered. “Just last a little longer, just a bit more, I can’t use another, not yet! I’m not there yet! I don’t know where I am, I need to-”

The little flame flickered, dulling from bright yellow to amber, to blue. Link swore and fumbled for another as a wind whipped along the tunnel, blowing out the flame and plunging him into darkness.

Link howled as the light went out. He scrabbled for his flint as the wind grew, whipping his hair in the total blackness, stinging his skin with dust and sand.

With a jolt, he realised what was happening. The sun outside had set, and the spirits were coming.

He threw himself to the ground as a cavernous shriek began to echo through the dead tunnels. It reverberated and grew, echoing tenfold so that it seemed as though he were surrounded.

And then he felt them, rushing towards him. He covered his head, face down on the stone, whimpering as they spilled over him, the gauzy cloth trailing along his head, his hands, his back, his legs. Waiting for their claws, knowing he couldn’t fight his way through them all.

The wave kept coming, shrieking and wailing and cold, so _cold_. How many of the damned things were there? They just kept coming!

He squeezed his eyes shut, hands over his head, waiting for them to attack. But they didn’t. They came on and on, howling their horrible, piercing screams, rushing over him and ignoring him completely.

After what felt like an hour, just as suddenly as it had come, the wave of spirits was gone. Link lay huddled on the ground in blackness, shivering. After a minute, he raised his head, sand stuck to his cheek. He squinted in the nothing, and saw nothing. Trembling, he got to his knees, feeling blindly for the wall. Finding it, he set his back to it and sat, fumbling for his torch and flint.

Laying the torch on the ground, he struck the flint with his knife, the sound falling dead in the air, the sparks as bright as the sun. He cursed as they did not take. He struck again, and again, each strike more desperate, clumsier, producing fewer and fewer sparks.

He dropped the flint and clutched his head, fighting the scream that built in his chest. He was lost, with no light. How would he repair the seal now? How would he reach the central chamber? _How would he find his way out?_

His breaths were tight as he fumbled for the flint again, his stumbling fingers searching for too long, the scream building inside him again until he found it, and struck. The glow of the sparks showed him he was off the mark, missing the torch by almost a foot. He tried again. And again.

And at last, the torch took. Link let fly a desperate laugh as it smoked, the glowing ember nestling in the oily rags around the tip.

“Please,” he begged. “ _Please…_ ”

The ember grew, a flame spreading along the rags. Link sat back and put his head in his hands, his relieved laughter sounding more akin to sobbing. He drew a shaky breath and rose, bringing the torch with him. He took two steps before he stumbled, his hand going to the wall.

This was his third torch. He had one left. One torch, and his lantern. That was all. And then he would be without light for good.

The scream shot up to his lips before he could stop it, and he clapped a hand to his mouth, wailing into his palm. The strength left his legs and sent him to his knees. He scrabbled around, facing the way he had come. He could still get out. He had enough light to get out. He could find his way, he was sure of it! He had to get out! But there were no arrows, no chips in the wall, nothing to show him the way home!

The walls were closing in, the ceiling lowering, pressing in on him from all sides. The torch juddered in his hand, refusing to be still. A rattle of dust to the side of him and he jerked the torch towards the sound, scrabbling with his feet, trying to press himself into the wall.

Something scurried across the back of his neck and he screamed, dropping the torch, rolling away and clawing at his collar, kicking up sand. It hit the torch and it flickered. Link froze, then dived for it, his prayers coming forth as nothing more than mumbled pleadings that no sane being could understand.

He crawled towards the way he came, his heart painful in his chest. He had to get out!

But a thump from the end of the tunnel stopped him. Whatever hunted him in the labyrinth had found him once more.

With a strangled sob, Link turned and fled further into the maze, half running, half crawling, his back bent almost double as the ceiling lowered even further. Had he imagined the sound, the feeling that something was there? He didn’t care. He just had to get away! But away was further into the labyrinth, with nothing to guide him back! And he was running out of light.

His breath dragged against his throat, he could not get enough air. There _was_ no air down here. He was growing dizzy, his mind spinning, the flickering torch throwing ghastly shadows along the walls and floor. He tried harder, sucking down the stale air, but it wasn’t enough. His heart rebelled against his ribs, so flinging itself so hard against the bone that it seemed it was trying to break free of him.

The tunnel ceiling lowered even more, forcing him to drop to his knees and crawl. If he could not get out, he had to get to the chamber! Surely there was something there to aid him, a map, a new set of torches, spare oil for his lantern, anything! He just had to get out of this tunnel, this tunnel that was narrowing, forcing him to lie flat on his belly, thrusting the torch before him, blinded by the fire, blinded by the blackness beyond, his feet scrabbling uselessly against the sandy stone, clawing his way forwards and he couldn’t see, couldn’t see!

And then, as if by a miracle, the passage widened, and Link almost fell into a large, square chamber. The presence at his back vanished, and he lay on the floor a moment, teeth clenched, eyes shut, drawing back the sobs that threatened to spill forth.

After a minute, he looked up. The faint light of his torch showed a brazier. He leapt up and scrambled to it, holding the torch to the coals and almost weeping when they took. The chamber filled with light, and Link drew the first deep breath in what felt like years.

There was nothing in the chamber but the tiny door through which he had come, the brazier, and a large, circular slab of stone on the ground. It was split down the middle, and from the crack a vile substance was leaking. It looked to be tar, but tar did not have a glowing, purple hue, nor did it curl into the air and dissipate like smoke.

Link stood straight. Now there was more light, and he could stand freely, he could think straight. He was here. He had a job to do. He drew another breath and pulled his canteen from his pouch and took a drink, wishing it was whisky, not water. He almost managed a smile. If he got out, he would head straight to Telma’s Bar, and he would get so blind drunk that he would not be able to walk straight for days.

Cheered by the thought, he approached the seal.


	4. Chapter 4

The seal was intricately carved with lettering that Link did not recognise, interwoven with crude carvings of what could be men and beasts, but could also be spirits and demons. The black, tarry liquid still seeped out, almost crawling across the stone, as slow and deliberate as a glacier. Link set his jaw, and felt in his pouch for the talisman, holding his torch aloft.

He gripped the hilt, angling the blade of the talisman down. He tilted his head to the side as the malicious mass of tar seemed to shiver, purplish hues shimmering across the surface. Link took a breath, and drove the blade of the talisman into the centre of the cracked seal.

There was a sudden, deep pulse in the air, a thud that reverberated through the chamber, through his body, flying outward. He staggered and jumped back, eyeing the seal as it seemed to glow. A strange, keening cry sounded, thin on the air, and faint, as if something was screaming from very far away. As he watched, the black, tarry liquid seemed to draw back towards the crack, retreating, shivering and pulsating.

Link set his mouth in a grim smile as he watched, torch in hand. He gave a short, sharp nod. It was done. The evil spirits that hunted the people of Hyrule would be drawn back and sucked into this prison, where they would remain for eternity, where they belonged.

The last of the tar vanished through the crack, and Link staggered, a force at his back. He clapped a hand to his hat as a fierce wind blew him forward, toward the crack in the seal. Horrified, he fought against the pressure, his boots sliding along the stone. His torch flickered, and went out. With a yelp, he dropped it, scrabbling back toward the wall as the torch was sucked into the crack, compressed, and vanished.

The brazier began to flicker and flare, the fire drawing up and out of the coals, and towards the crack.

With a cry, Link launched himself toward the tiny exit tunnel. The seal was sucking the spirits back to it, and everything else besides.

The wind whipping at his tunic, Link threw himself into the tunnel, clutching the smooth, stone floor as sand flooded towards the chamber. The light from the brazier dimmed, and went out. In total darkness, Link hurled himself on, grasping the stone, feeling the walls and ceiling pressing in on him as the wind pushed against him. He dug his toes into the stone, lying almost flat, fumbling along the walls until they ended. He yanked himself around the corner and crawled on, his breath hissing against his teeth in painful, short bursts.

The wind shrieked along the black tunnel, growing louder. Setting his back to the wall, Link scrabbled in his pouch and brought out his lantern, clicking the start. His relief at the light did nothing to wash away his terror. There were no marks on the walls to guide him out, and he was running out of time.

He pushed on, choosing turns at random, fighting against the wind. Coming to a cross section, he stopped for the briefest of moments. The wind was howling through the tunnels, pushing him back, but it was only coming from one direction. Turning his body into the gale, Link hurried forwards, gasping, his lantern jumping in his hand as he was finally able to crouch, running as fast as he could, hunched over and praying.

The howling grew louder and higher in pitch. With a yelp, Link threw himself to the floor as the howling became a shrieking, and a tidal wave of spirits swarmed the narrow passage. Covering his face, Link inched along the stone, feeling their vicious claws snag at his hat, his tunic, his shield, threatening to pull him from the ground and drag him back to whatever hell they came from. He could not reach his Sword, he could not raise his head. He could only push forward with his feet, his free hand feeling blindly as he pressed his face to the stone.

A claw snagged his boot and Link swore as he slid along the stone, dragged by the spirit. More cannoned into him, pushing him back. He kicked and lashed, but the more he struggled, the more spirits seemed to clutch him, clawing along his body, fighting for freedom, fighting to reach the exit, to escape this inexorable pull. Link howled as claws raked his face, and clouted the spirit with his lantern. It hissed and retreated, but more were coming.

With a whimper, Link threw himself forward, but the spirits held him back. His feet kicked at the floor, his nails scrabbled against stone. He was being dragged, inch by inch, back towards the chamber, back towards the seal. He could not reach his sword. He was doomed.

He lashed out with his lantern again, hitting a spirit. The gauzy cloth caught and burned, a rapidly spreading wave that was snuffed in an instant as the spirit vanished with a shriek.

There was a split second of calm as Link realised what he had to do. He screwed up his face. It was a horrible prospect, but if he did not, it would mean his death. If he could choose how to die, he would not choose being sucked into a dimension of hell with a thousand, vengeful spirits. But if he did what he was thinking, he would only survive through sheer luck. It was more likely that he would be trapped in the catacombs, forced to wander the labyrinth for eternity until he starved.

But a chance, even a slim one, was still a chance.

Link rolled onto his back and swiped his lantern at the spirits. Their fluttering robes caught the flame and they peeled away, burning into nothing. Embers fell on his tunic, but he ignored them, concentrating on getting the vile things off of him.

Each swipe used precious fuel. As the spirits let him go, he lurched away, stumbling to his feet and tearing, bent backed, along the passageway. He risked a look at his oil. Half was gone. He had time.

And still the wave of spirits came, borne on the howling, unforgiving wind. Link turned to face it, following it. It would be fine. He had to follow the wind, and avoid the spirits. He lashed out at them with his lantern, keeping them away. The tunnel was rising, widening, he could almost stand straight! He was going the right way, he was almost out!

He almost laughed as the river of screeching ghosts began to lessen. The wind was dying down, but no matter. He had time. He had light. He broke into a jog, then a run, swinging his lantern in front of him, battering and burning those that dared to come too close. He could almost stand upright now, he almost had enough room to draw his Sword. It wouldn’t be long, it-

His lantern went out.

With a cry, Link threw himself to the floor and yanked the Sword out of its sheath. Rolling onto his back, he pointed the blade up, hearing the keening cries of the spirits as they were forced onto the edge, peeling away as the wind thundered down the tunnel. But the wind was dying. The screams of the spirits was lessening. He had no light.

And he didn’t know where he was.

Panting, Link rolled onto his hands and knees and began to crawl, searching for a wall. He found one and ran his hands along it, searching for one of his arrows. He found none. With a soft cry, he lurched through the blackness to the opposite wall and fumbled along that too. There was nothing but smooth, worn stone.

The wind had completely gone, as had the wails of the spirits. Link sheathed his sword and rose to his feet, one hand on the wall. He began to stumble through the blackness, waiting, praying for his night vision to kick in. But it never did.

He was ten steps along the passage when he halted. Was he even going the right way? He swung his head blindly from side to side. How did he know where he was? And what was going to happen to the catacombs now that the seal was repaired?

As if to answer him, a great, juddering rumble shuddered through the passage. The catacombs had risen from beneath the sand when the seal had been broken. Now the seal was repaired, they were sinking.

With a wail, Link launched himself into the darkness, stumbling forward, his hands stretched out in front of him. He cannoned into a wall and fumbled along it, turning right, his hands scrabbling along the stone for any kind of mark. He did not try to stop the tears that fell, he did not try to stop the panicked, short breaths that lashed his lungs.

He was going to die down here. The catacombs were sinking back into the sand, and he was trapped, lost in blackness, doomed to wander eternal with no eyes, no way to see, no way to escape!

His knees buckled, and he crashed to the floor. Weeping, he grasped handfuls of sand and forced himself on, feeling blindly for anything other than smooth stone. He scrabbled for the walls, unable to feel them, his heart lurching into his throat. Now there were no walls! Was he to be lost forever in a great, black space? Was this death? Had he died? Was this his punishment for failing Hyrule?

He yelled and lashed out, his hand connecting painfully with a wall. He grabbed for it and sobbed, clawing along the ground until he could rise, stumbling on, as the catacombs gave another, great shudder, shaking loose dust and sand from the ceiling and walls.

And from somewhere deep behind him, a black presence welled. Against all his instincts, Link paused, turning his sightless eyes towards the manifestation. The passage shook again, so violently that Link was thrown off his feet, as a great, guttural roar exploded through the labyrinth.

The thing had found him once more.

Link leapt forward into darkness, sprinting full pelt along the tunnel as the something boiled deep in the catacombs, coming ever closer, rushing through the black tunnels, speeding through the darkness. He bounced off a wall and swore, taking a new turn, not caring if he broke his nose or his hands, not caring if he fell, only caring about getting away, getting out, getting anywhere away from whatever monstrosity hunted him in the bowels of the Arbiter’s Grounds.

The tunnel gave another lurch, and began to shudder in earnest. Link gave a cry and stumbled, as something icy and slick snaked along his leg. He yowled like a cat and sprang away, turning, lashing, fumbling for walls. He couldn’t see! Which way was he going? Which way was out? Where was the thing, where was he? He roared as he sensed something boiling up behind him, and he launched himself away, up the tunnel.

A tunnel that was, almost imperceptibly, rising.

He ran on, banging into walls and stumbling, when at last, the faintest light began to glimmer. Suddenly giddy, he laughed and put on a burst of speed, skidding along the widening tunnels, heading for the light.

He slid around the final corner to find daylight flooding in through an ever diminishing hole at the top of an ever steepening slope. He winced at the light, but he ploughed on. There were two figures peering into the darkness.

“SHAD! AURU!” Link roared, hitting the slope at full tilt. Sand was flowing into the catacombs, pushing him back, but he grabbed at it, hurling himself up, digging his fingers into the stone, ignoring the sharp shards of flint and slate that stabbed under his nails. One of the figures threw something, and a rope appeared by his hands. He snatched for it, holding tight, planting his feet, his teeth bared and snarling as he flew up with the strength and speed of a desperate man.

The rope snapped five feet from the top. Auru threw himself forward as Link hit the sand and slid back, his fingers missing Link’s by mere inches. Link dug in his heels, grasping at the sand, not caring that he ripped his nails on the rougher stone below. Snarling, he launched himself up, closer now, almost out. Auru had retreated, and the slightly taller Shad was kneeling, dangling the now too-short rope just out of reach, his face white and sweating.

Link made another phenomenal effort, fighting the flow of sand, the ever increasing slope, the rectangle of daylight growing ever smaller. _He was almost there!_ But a great, icy vice seized his leg in an iron grip. He looked back to see a shining, black claw clamped around his thigh, slick black and shining with a purple sheen, the fingers arachnid and hard. Desperately, he turned his face to the light as he was dragged back into darkness.

“Shad!” he screamed. “ _Auru!_ _HELP ME!_ ”

Auru gave Shad a shove, and the scholar pitched forwards into the dark with a yelp. Auru snatched his feet, and the rope spooled down, coiling by Link’s fingers. He made a wild grab and missed, the iron claw around his leg pulling him still further into the black. He snatched again and snagged the end of the rope in his fist, pulling himself up. Shad gasped and clung on as Auru planted his feet and began to heave.

Link yelped as the pressure on his leg increased, and Shad howled as he was pulled taught, the rope slipping in his grasp. The catacombs were still sinking, the entrance barely three foot high. With a snarl, Link unsheathed the Master Sword and slashed at the claw binding him to darkness. It connected with a metallic clang and a burst of purple fire. There was an unearthly howl, and the claw slackened. Link jabbed again, and he was released. With an almighty pull, Auru dragged the two men up. Shad slid over the lip of the stone and vanished, Link scrabbling with his feet for purchase.

The entrance was growing smaller, the catacombs sinking faster by the second. The gap was three feet, then two, then barely one…

Link looked back. From the blackness, a pair of yellow eyes burned, fixed on him, blazing with all the hatred in the realm. In all his lifetimes, Link could rarely remember seeing a gaze so full of pure evil.

Auru gave a mighty tug, and Link shot out into sunlight. He let go of the rope and scrabbled forwards, clawing away from the labyrinth. He barely made it five feet before he collapsed in a sobbing heap, howling his horror into the sand.

And then the catacombs were gone, sunk back below the dunes, as if they had never existed.

He felt a strong hand between his shoulders, encouraging him to turn, pushing him to sit. Auru crouched beside him, staring into his face. Shad knelt on his other side, blinking owlishly at him. Now sitting, Link could not tear his eyes from the divot in the sand, where deep below, hell awaited. The comparison might have seemed foolish to him before, but now he knew better. He had been through hell itself. And he had nearly been swallowed by it.

He could not stop the pitiful cries that poured from him, the terror and relief washing over him like warring oceans. He clutched the sides of his head, rocking and shivering. He wanted to lash out, he wanted to run. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cower. He wanted to fight, he wanted to hide, _anything_ to get him away from that terrible, all-encompassing blackness, that presence of pure evil, those haunting, yellow eyes.

“You’re all right,” Auru was saying, gruffly, patting him on the shoulder. “You’re all right, lad. You’re all right.”

“It’s okay,” Shad was gabbling. “You’re out, you’re safe, you did it, everything’s going to be okay…”

But Link barely heard them. They did not know. They had not seen what he had seen. They had not felt the roof closing in on them, the walls pressing in on all sides. They had not breathed the stale, dank air, they had not been hunted by a shadowed presence as evil as Ganon himself. They did not know what it was to experience sheer terror like he had.

But that was not their fault. Link squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his teeth, and drew a shaky breath. He was the Hero of Twilight. He had an image to maintain. He wiped his eyes and looked up, plastering a smile to his face.

“Sorry about that,” he said, looking between his companions. Shad wore an expression of alarm, Auru one of disbelief. “Not sure what happened there. But, it’s done, so shall we go home?”

“D-don’t you want to rest?” Shad asked, his voice small, his eyes roving over Link’s face, as if searching for something. He clutched his book in white-knuckled hands, but he managed to unlatch one of them, gripping Link’s wrist in a clammy, but welcome gesture.

“I thought you wanted to go look at the sky cannon again?” Link said.

“You’ve been down there almost two days,” Auru murmured, and Link stared at him, refusing to believe it. “You look like you’ve not slept, nor eaten. You must rest.”

Two days? It seemed impossible. His torches had burned away, as had his lantern, so it can’t have been longer than a day. How long was he running, blind, in the dark? Had time been different down there, in hell? He threw off a shudder and clenched his fists.

“I’ll rest back at the castle,” Link replied. He rose, his legs unsteady beneath him. Auru took his elbow, and Link flinched, wanting to pull away, to walk unaided. But his knees buckled and he stumbled. Auru grunted and pulled his arm over his burly shoulders. In moments, Shad was at his other side, pulling his arm over his skinny shoulders and lacing his fingers with his own.

Link grimaced, but allowed them to hold him. He did not dare admit how much he needed it, both for his weakened body, and the terrified child within him, hiding under a bed in a treehouse in a woodland village, longing for the comforting arms of another.

And so, the three men left the Arbiters Grounds, their shadows lopsided and combined, the burly warrior and the slender scholar supporting the weight of the Hero, striding away from an evil once again buried, but not yet forgotten.

The End


End file.
